Fallen Down
by neonium
Summary: What if instead of a child falling into the underground, a young adult had fallen? Without Frisk to play the perfect foil, how will the monsters behave? Is pacifism even an option, without a child's innocence to stay their desperation?


I awaken with a jolt, to the terror accompanying that all too familiar feeling of weightlessness and free-fall. After taking a moment to re-orient myself, there's perhaps a split-second to realize that not only am I actually still falling, but I also still can't see, before the mounting horror is replaced by an instant of pain and disorientation, as my head snaps forward and my knees buckle. Before I've any chance to process this new development, there's an all-encompassing flash of white.

* * *

I'm in that weird place, where you sort of know you're sleeping but you've started to wake up. I hate that place. Knowing that you aren't going to get any more sleep, but still feeling compelled to fight a losing battle. Any thought on how to escape back into unconsciousness only serving to wake you up that little bit more.

I'm not sure what time it is exactly, but it feels like it must be much too early to be getting up. I try to roll over, maneuvering myself off my stomach to get a look at my clock, only to be treated to a sudden and debilitating rush of pain. I collapse, insensate, back onto the bed, but barely get a moments respite as a sudden bout of nausea overtakes me. It actually takes me a moment to realize that I'm dry heaving, each involuntary shudder bringing a new jolt of pain.

I briefly consider trying to roll onto my side, or really just doing anything in case something of actual substance comes up, but even just thinking about it has a fresh spike of nausea rushing through me in anticipation of the pain. Moving is out then, at least until I'm certain the pain has fallen to bearable levels. It takes a minute, but the rogue sensations in my body seem

Not that the pain is gone mind you, it just seems to be competing with a fog of confusion and fear now. Where the hell am I? I'm pretty sure I'm not in my room, because I still can't really make anything out, and I should be able to see the light of the alarm clock or hear the buzz of a fan. Maybe the powers out? It's a struggle to think, but I let my eyes drift close and struggle to bring some semblance of order to my thoughts.

Could I have something to do with that? I can't seem to remember any specifics, but I can't image how else I'd have gotten here. But, I know I've felt like this before. Not the pain, but the fog. I think, maybe, that I must either be very sleep deprived or very concussed, and given the total lack of give to my "bed", I think I must be on the ground. Something hard and rough by the feel of it, so I'm guessing stone or unfinished concrete. Am I in the furnace room? Did I short out the breaker with my fucking face or something? Because neither my head or my legs are very happy at the moment, and I think that would explain how awful I feel. That must be it.

I'm fine then. I'm just a little concussed, must have taken a dive onto the floor. But I'm safe. I'm at home. I just need to give it a few minutes and I'll be feeling a bit less noxious. I can figure out if I need to call an ambulance or just take a couple Aspirin. I can even hear the cat padding his way over. I'm going to be fine, just-

The cat is dead. My cat has been dead for over a year. All at once my heart is racing again and my stomach is back in my throat. My eyes snap open, and I notice an odd, flickering, light. Jesus Christ, I think I'm in some sort of cave. Some crazy cultist with an honest to god torch is about to round the corner, because that flickering light is definitely getting closer, and I can't even move.

Suddenly my not being able to move is making a lot more sense, and I'm honestly not looking forward to seeing what that's about. My breathing is picking up and I just can't help but think about how bad this is. There's no way they'll miss me, out in the open like I am, and I can't even stop my breath from coming in great, frantic, gulps now. They're going to know I'm awake the second they see me. Christ, do I even try to fight back in this state? I try to give shuffling around another go, and I can barely even remember the cultist, because the pain and nausea are overwhelming. I can't help it, something between a shout and a dry heave slips out, and a soft exclamation echoes back in response. The padding picks up, and that flickering light is just short of the corner now. Second left, bite my tongue? Can't –won't- face whatever they're –

And suddenly it feels like the world's fallen out from under me. I'm try to shuffle back but the pain and nausea are keeping me all but paralyzed. Whoever they are, they're here, and they're speaking to me and shambling over. I can hear them speaking, and while I can't make out the words, they sound upset. I've managed to get an arm up as they arrive, feebly pawing at them, trying to ward them off, but a firm grip takes my arm and pushes it aside. As my tenuous hold over my arm fails, and it falls back to my side, I realize that I'm completely spent. I couldn't lift a finger. A great clawed hand is reaching out, coming straight for my face, and helpless to stop it I clench my eyes shut.

But the pain I'm expecting doesn't arrive. Instead, I feel something soft cup my cheek, and a moment later the weirdest tingling sensation has spread out over my face. It's pins and needles in a way I've never quite experienced, and my skin feels like it's been stretched too far, my face and eyes straining against the confinement. I let out a short gasp, and my eyes fall open.

But this time, my vision is clear, although no less frightening. Because my cultist is a goat. A goat, complete with surprisingly silly horns, very un-goat like eyes, and a fuzzy muzzle. Is goat Satan actually a thing? Because this interloper is either Satan or a furry wizard, given that it's not a torch, but their hand that's on fire. I'm torn between fear and amazement, magic is real, until I remember that a goat is about to set me on fire. This time however, despite the pain that shoots up my arms, I've more than found the strength to crawl back, eyes flickering back and forth from the fire to its face.

She, I realize, almost looks human, despite the fur and the horns. Her eyes certainly betray intelligence, having a knowing wince, although she seems startled that I've pulled away. But she must have noticed my glances at her fireball, because her eyes seem to widen in recognition just before her hand closes and the flames dissipate, and our surroundings are plunged back into shadow.

Caught by surprise, my breath catches, and I'm alone again, but for my racing thoughts and the frantic beat of my heart. Before I can decide whether or not to panic, though, I hear her shifting closer, and before I know it her hand is resting on my face again. This time though, either because its darker or I'm a little more coherent, I notice a soft green glow emanate from her hand, and sink into my skin. Her face is cast in shadow, just barely lit, but her expression is obviously far from sinister. And while the tingling that crawls down my chest still isn't pleasant, I notice just how much better I feel for its passing.

The seconds drag on, the sensation slowly making its way down my legs, and in no time at all there's nowhere left for it to go, and it slowly burns itself out in my toes. I should thank her, shouldn't I? But she's still murmuring, and no matter how hard I strain, I still can't seem to hold onto her words. I'm debating the merits of attempting non-verbal communication, because what's more universal than a hug, when I feel like I'm falling again, along with an altogether unpleasant feeling that things are sliding through my head. As quick as it comes though, it's gone again, and with this the warmth on my face pulls away.

I hear someone shifting away, but before I can call out to at least try to thank them, they speak out again.

"Can you hear me now, my friend?"

Her voice is calm, measured, and incredibly matronly.

I start to speak, but my voice catches, and I realize just how tight and dry my throat feels. I cough, once, clearing my throat. "Yes."

"Wonderful!" She even sounds like she means it too. "I'm going to have to summon a flame, at least until we've made it back to the main path, if I'm to help you, though." She pauses for a moment. "Would that be alright, my boy?"

Well, her tone certainly wasn't just an affectation then. I can't help but feel like a prick though, with how hesitant she sounds. But this is really starting to seem oddly familiar. "Oh, yes. I'm sorry. Really sorry. Thank you. I'm not sure what came over me, earlier. I think I must have fallen, fallen on my head?" I'm rambling, but she seems to be taking it well enough, even giggling a little. "I'd love to see though, and I'm really sorry I acted like that."

She takes a moment, and I'd swear I hear the familiar sound of hands running down clothes, nervously smoothing out imaginary creases. "That's quite alright, I'm certain this all must be terribly confusing to you." There's a faint swoosh, and there's a fresh flame, just floating above her hand. "But I think this would all be better said over a slice of pie?"

I manage to keep silent, although just barely. I'd worry about the fact I'm staring, but I'm certain she's both too polite to hold it against me, and she'll likely just assume it's because of the whole goat thing. It would be too, if not for the deltarune sitting on her chest, clear as day on her purple dress.

I'm standing in front of Toriel Dreemurr, because I've somehow fallen into the underground.

* * *

**I hope that serves as a passible introduction.**

**I haven't actually written recreationally since my sixth year provincial exams, some fifteen years ago, so I imagine my un-beta'd work is pretty rough; I'll try to come back with a fresh set of eyes in a few months if I keep writing, and clean it up.**


End file.
